The time has come for us to meet and sit and chat about nothing at all. In the hopes that something will arise out of the petty teeming; the who did this; the what color did that get painted — maybe we can reach a place of mutual curiosity.
In the tree house of Continue reading The day the ducks went in the fountain
At a cafe in Maine last week I stumbled upon a journal that someone had left in the floorboard of the wall. I was just staring into space, and thinking about my future — picking at the tiles near the sugar and napkin holder — when a larger piece fell with a PLOOP, and out comes the edges of fifty, maybe sixty pages tied together with faded twine. Continue reading The Lowest Denominator